A Matter of Faith and Time
by tearsofamiko
Summary: Does he inspire the loyalty? Or do they?
1. They Come

Title: A Matter of Faith and Time

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Of course I own them! Right? Right!? Wait...what? It was a dream? Noooooo!!!!!!

Spoilers: No. This is completely _not_ based off an episode.

Summary: Does he inspire the loyalty? Or do they?

* * *

The patient in room 110 was a curious one. A federal agent with a mysterious agency, his life was shrouded in mystery with no answers forthcoming; only speculation and clues gave the staff any idea of who he was. In appearance, he was a relatively unremarkable man, his still form giving no evidence of the actual man within. All in all, he was no different than most of the patients on that level of the hospital.

Except for his visitors.

Hardly a day went by without at least one appearance of each visitor to room 110. And each visit was a source of much quiet speculation among the nurses. Nothing particularly notable occurred but the rare glimpses into the nurses' most mysterious patient were carefully catalogued by the floor's medical staff. After all, a comatose person wasn't answering any questions.

The patient's visitors seemed to follow no real set pattern, but there was predictability to them. It didn't vary much, day to day, but there was definitely a casual purpose to each visit. No two visitors came at the same time, but each always came. The nurses wondered at it, but didn't question it. Whatever comforted the loved ones and all that.

So the nurses watched and listened, trying – unsuccessfully – to learn something about the man in the hospital room that inspired such loyalty in his visitors. And, gradually, as time passed, they found themselves allied with the visitors, touched by the same faith each unique face revealed, hoping for the patient's full recovery, and feeling the same loyalty.

All because of the man's visitors.

They didn't even know their names.

* * *

A/N: This is supposed to be short and ambiguous. Gradually you'll understand who's in the bed and who's visiting. There'll be a different chapter for each visitor but I won't come right out and say who that visitor is. I'm not even gonna tell who the main characters are. You've gotta figure it out. There'll be clues, though. :) So, maybe it's a scavenger hunt to find out who visits. The patient will become pretty clear soon enough. I hope you enjoy. It's my first foray into this kind of fic.


	2. In the Early Morning

Title: A Matter of Faith and Time

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Spoilers: see first chapter

Summary: Does he inspire the loyalty? Or do they?

* * *

_**...In the Early Morning**_

It wasn't unusual, seeing the man walking through the halls down to room 110. At first glance, he doesn't appear to be a doctor; closer scrutiny reveals a calm within the man, despite the feeling lingering in this area of the hospital. He seems at ease in the oppressive quiet. Nobody bothers him as he makes his way to the room, though visiting hours don't begin for a while. He's a new regular, a familiar and almost welcome sight to the nurses.

The night shift has yet to end, this early in the morning, and the night nurse moves quietly through the last of her rounds. Her shrewd eyes take in the unchanged stillness of the patient in the bed and the new lines of exhaustion in his visitor's face. A quiet nod is the only acknowledgement she gave the man in the visitor's chair, simple habit born of the previous weeks, and receives only a 'hat-tip' gesture from him, one medical professional to another. Smoothing the patient's blanket one last time, she takes her leave, giving the room's occupants their privacy.

"Ah, dear boy. Another day," the visitor begins, his typical greeting. His tone of voice suggests he doesn't expect a response, but he cocks his head as if listening. "No different today, huh? Well, you never were one for idle conversation. No, I think we'd both agree I've always been the gregarious one. A curious pairing, given your reticence, but one that has worked well for us. Why, I remember one time. . .But that's not necessary. I'm sure you remember as well as I do some of our finer adventures. The cliff incident in Europe, for example. That was quite an experience, wasn't it? If I remember correctly, that was one of the few times _I_ caused the trouble. Quite a change from our usual," he chuckles, then lapses into silence. He seems to sink into his thoughts, all levity gone. "We've done this before, my friend, and I had hoped it was the only time. I'd think it safe to say, we've both had our fill of hospitals. Goodness knows we've been here often enough, though mostly for others. For the team with the highest closure rate, it also had the dubious pleasure of holding the highest injury rate. Not your fault, I know, but a fact nevertheless." He reaches out and pats the patient's arm, allowing silence to claim the room again.

Pensive eyes survey the room and patient from behind thin glasses. The utilitarian walls and furniture suit the place but not the man and the juxtaposition seem to weigh on the quiet visitor. He shifts in his chair, trying to find some comfort on the hard plastic. He can't quite keep his eyes on the patient at the moment, as though he's afraid of what he'll see. Taking a deep breath, he starts to speak again, then stops, before continuing once more.

"My friend...Jethro, let's not do this again. Once was quite enough; I don't think any of us can take another go." He sighs, a tired, bone-weary sound that echoes in the silent room. "Perhaps...ah, but I wish I knew what to do for you, my friend. I can only tell you that, 'you did good.' And he's fine."

He stands and gazes down at the patient for a time, gathers his hat and coat, and turns to leave. He stops at the doorway and looks back at the bed once more.

"Until next time. Sleep well, my friend."


	3. Around MidMorning

Title: A Matter of Faith and Time

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Spoilers: see chapter one

Summary: Does he inspire the loyalty? Or do they?

* * *

 _**...Around Mid-Morning**_

She strides in, appearing completely at ease with the situation and completely confident in her appearance there. No one knows that, each time she enters this place, an automatic survey is done, a reflexive check of all exits and possible threats. She never falters as she walked and her swift pace quickly places her within room 110. The nurses watch her progress, quietly commenting to themselves at her appearance, but otherwise leave the young woman alone. The exotic beauty makes them wonder, but her standoffish silence repels their questions. It bothers no one.

The young woman doesn't seem very comfortable within the patient's room. She paces, never settling in one space for long, not bothering to break the silence. She glances at the bed occasionally, hope and questions in her eyes, but doesn't receive the answer she begs. Finally she speaks, an abrupt change from the silence.

"So...heh, he's doing it again. He's just like before, when he took over the team last time. Except," she gestured with a pointed finger, her frustration and exasperation apparent, "he's worse this time. I swear, I just want to, to," she mutters something in a foreign language that does nothing to lessen the force of the threat. Lowering her hands, she closes her eyes and visibly calms herself. "It's lucky we haven't had many cases recently. Not that he would do a bad job," she hastily corrects. "He just. . .he gets so annoying when you are gone and there's no one willing to make him stop!"

She's pacing furiously now and, abruptly, she catches herself and sits in the chair placed next to the bed. She sits there for a little while, staring at the bed, an unreadable expression on her face. She hesitantly reaches out a hand and places it over the patient's. For an instant, tears shimmer in her eyes, but she quickly blinks them away.

"We need you back," she whispers. "All of us. Abby's miserable. Ducky seems so much _older_. Everything is so wrong without you." She looked up at the man in the bed. "Please don't leave us again," she asks, somehow pleading without begging, the barest catch in her voice. "I do not know if he could take it. And if he cannot take it, we are all doomed." There's no response from the patient and, after a second, she bows her head, her shoulders slumped.

A person passes the room, their movement displacing the still air, and the young woman jumps. She wildly scans the room, an almost animal urgency in her eyes. Finding nothing out of place, she settles once more. She stares at the man in the bed, almost seems to be willing him to open his eyes. It doesn't work, but she doesn't seem quite as despondent as before. She stands, brushing her hands along her thighs to release any wrinkles, carefully looking away from the bed. She turns to leave, having been there for a while. Pausing, she looks back at the bed.

"He does not blame you, you know. You are still his hero." She smiles and tilts her head. "Shalom, my friend. Le׳hitra׳ot axar kax."

* * *

le׳hitra׳ot axar kax – see you later (in Hebrew) [found online]


	4. At Lunchtime

Title: A Matter of Faith and Time

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Spoilers: see chapter one

Summary: Does he inspire the loyalty? Or do they?

* * *

 _**...At Lunchtime**_

He's nervous as he walks down the hall, though he's visited many times before. He doesn't fumble or stumble, but there's an air of unease about him. He keeps looking over his shoulder as though expecting to see someone there and, despite him being alone, he doesn't look terribly convinced. He does make it to room 110 safely, though, and the nurses have come to expect the skittish routine. After all, it's the same each day.

A nurse is working on her lunch rounds as he walks in the room. She nods at him and smiles, and just about laughs at the quick half-smile she gets in return. She's decided she'd love to know just why this visitor always looks so scared but feels the situation prevents her from asking. So, instead, she always tries to reassure him, giving him a pat on the shoulder as she leaves. Today, however, he's looking particularly edgy, so she actually speaks.

"He's looking better today," she tells the young man, smiling.

He's hesitant as he nods, as though he doubts she's telling the truth. She feels her lips quirk into a grin as she shakes her head and walks past him. He's a sweetheart, that one, but strange. Really strange.

The room is silent after she leaves, a common enough occurrence, but the nurses that have a chance to pass the room during this time have noticed that the silence waiting to be broken is the only time the young man really seems to calm down. Sure enough, the tension leaves his shoulders and the wariness leaves his face, relaxing it into boyish lines.

"Hey, Boss," the man says, his voice low and quiet. He looks down at the floor between his feet, then back up at the man on the bed. "Guess you want a sit-rep, huh? Well," he leans back in his chair, trying to get comfortable. He only stays briefly, but he always makes the most of his time. "Abby is doing okay. She's quieter and much less caffeinated, not that she doesn't try or anything. Um...Ziva's a lot edgier, at least in the mornings. I mean, Boss, sometimes I'm sure she's gonna _kill_ Tony, then she leaves for a while and when she comes back, she's different. Not as...sharp? You know, less explosive? Like she goes out and beat the crap outta someone, then comes back...You don't think...I mean, Ziva wouldn't...of course not, Boss." He shakes his head at his musings, a small smile on his face. "Ducky's doing okay. Autopsy's more quiet than usual, but nothing's really changed down there."

He shifts in his chair then, once more uncomfortable and uneasy. He glances over his shoulder into the hallway, then turns back to the patient. "Boss, I'm worried about Tony." The statement hangs in the air for a moment, strangely ominous in the silence of the room. "I don't think I've ever seen him like this. Not even when you retired. It's...I can't explain it. He's so different. I mean, he's always the first one in and never leaves before the rest of us. I'm not even sure he sleeps at his apartment anymore. I drove over there the other night and there were no lights on. His car wasn't there either. He doesn't joke as much anymore. He's just not...I don't know, Boss."

Silence descends again, but this time, the young man doesn't relax at all and it's obvious that his topic is really bothering him.

"Boss, you know he doesn't blame you, right? I remember Director Sheppard saying you were in a coma after Desert Storm for nineteen days because you just didn't want to face reality. But, Boss, he's okay and we need you back. At this rate, Tony's either gonna burn out or turn into you. Not that turning into you would be a bad thing," he quickly backpedals, raising his hands apologetically. "It's just...I dunno, Boss. It's hard to see him beating himself up over this. He blames himself, you know."

He just sits there for a while, watching the steady rise and fall of the patient's chest as he breathes. The tension drains away again, but this time the young man looks tired and worn. He glances at his watch, then the clock on the wall, and stands. He shoves his hands into his pockets, still watching the man in the bed, before looking up and taking a step away from the bed.

"You gotta come back soon, Boss. For all of us, okay?"

The question resounds in the air, receiving no answer, but a lightness seems to fill the room as though a positive answer was given. The young man nods and strolls through the door and down the hallway.

* * *

_A/N: Intriguing enough? ^^_


	5. Late in the Afternoon

Title: A Matter of Faith and Time

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Spoilers: see chapter one

Summary: Does he inspire the loyalty? Or do they?

* * *

 _**...Late in the Afternoon**_

She walks quickly, her boots clunking on the linoleum floor. She's an unusual sight in the hospital, though she fits her skin with comfort; she obviously doesn't care what people think of her clothes. She's on a mission, though, the same one she embarks on each time she visits. With a large foam cup in one hand, a large paper cup of coffee in the other, and both arms wrapped around a stuffed hippo, she purposefully strides down the hall, her attention focused only on one thing: room 110 and the man within.

As has become habit, a couple of the nurses poke their heads around the doorframe, careful not to disturb the young woman but too curious to stay away. They watch silently as she sets the cups onto the small bedside table, then climbs carefully up onto the bed, curling herself around the patient, her arms still wrapped around the hippo. She settles in, pulling one of the patient's arms into her own, and the hippo lets out a loud fart. Smiling and damn-close to giggling, the nurses scurry away to start their rounds.

For a while it seems the young woman has fallen asleep, so still and silent is the room. She's not though; her breathing is as steady as the patient's, but her eyes are open and tracing the contours of his face. She looks inexplicably sad and that sadness makes her seem both younger and older than her years. The nurses worry for her, this lost little girl with the old woman's eyes. They worry, but there's nothing they can do.

"Hi," she says simply, not moving from her position. "I brought you coffee," she offers hopefully, tilting her head to watch him, before laying it back down. "It's not the same without you there. Ziva's eyes are sad and angry all the time. Timmy always looks like he's scared, no matter what's going on. Ducky doesn't talk to his bodies much anymore and he doesn't joke with me at all. He looks so old and tired, Gibbs. He's worried about you. And about Tony."

She's silent for a time after that, just laying there on the bed, listening to the patient's heartbeat and occasionally squeezing her hippo. The noises threaten to send all nurses within earshot into giggles, but they keep their poise. Barely.

"We're gonna lose Tony if you don't come back soon, Gibbs. He blames himself for what happened, thinks he failed and that it's his fault you're here. I tried to show him that it wasn't really his fault. None of the scenarios I ran ended up any better. I think he prefers the ones where he's the one that ends up here – or worse – instead. I'm scared, Gibbs. I really am.

"I know the others have probably said this before, but he's so different now. Remember the way he was after Kate died? And the Director? He's like that, but worse. There's something dark and dangerous about him now, an edge that wasn't really there before. And it doesn't go away. I think he's having nightmares, too. See, 'cause he comes down to sleep in my lab sometimes and he dreams. You know, bad ones, ones where he wakes up scared and shaky and Tony's never scared. Not really.

"And I know he's not been here once since you were brought in and that's not like him at all. The real Tony would've been camped out in here until you woke up, just like you would be for him. But he's not been here at all! It's not like he doesn't know where it is. It's the same hospital he was in when he had the plague! It's not like him, Gibbs, and I don't like it!"

The silence fills in then, growing within the room at the same rate as the shadows cast by the setting sun. She doesn't notice that the cup of coffee no longer steams or that the movements in the hallway have picked up as the change in shift draws near. She just stays there on the bed with the patient, quietly watching his face for a sign.

Finally she sits up, straightening her shirt and pulling the hippo close once more. She glances around the room and, like always, scowls at the bland landscape hanging on the wall. She looks back at the patient once more, a sad smile on her face.

"I'm glad the Director isn't here to see you this time. She got so sad last time, even though she tried to hide it." Her hazel eyes take in the patient's appearance, not missing a thing. "You need to come back soon, Gibbs," she says again. "He needs you to tell him that it wasn't his fault and that you don't blame him. You need to tell him there was nothing he could have done. He needs it, Gibbs. We all need you. You gotta come back."

She kisses her fingertips, then trails them across his cheek and forehead, tears filling her eyes. She climbs down off the bed and turns to pick up her cup. The cup of coffee catches her eye and a single tears slips down her cheek, dragging a black thread of mascara with it. She haphazardly swipes a hand across her cheek and blinks rapidly to banish the rest of the tears. But that one tear track – the only tears shed by any of the visitors thus far – is heart-breaking to the nursing staff, who have become used to the barely restrained energy within this girl.

None of that energy is visible today, though, as she picks up the cups and her hippo and leaves the room. Motherly eyes follow her as she walks back to the elevators, but none of the nurses can do anything for her. They're doing all they can and the visitors are helping, but they suspect something is missing. They aren't sure what, exactly, it is, just that it's vital to the patient's recovery. They can only wonder and hope, silently rooting for the patient and his visitors. They know that enough time has passed and that the man in 110 is no longer in any danger.

Now, it's just a matter of faith.

* * *

A/N: This is, technically, set after Jenny's dies, which is why she hasn't come to visit. ^^ I just kinda think that Abby calls Jenny "the Director" the same way Tony calls McGee "Probie," using it as almost a term of endearment or affection. ^^


	6. Late at Night

Title: A Matter of Faith and Time

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Spoilers: see chapter one

Summary: Does he inspire the loyalty? Or do they?

* * *

 _**...Late at Night**_

The halls are quiet now, no visitors roaming between rooms or staff wandering the halls. Even the lights seem muted, though they haven't changed. There's a sleepy ambiance to the place, a hush reminiscent of a church or library. It doesn't bother the nurses; they're used to it, almost comforted by it, a sense of change in an area where change is slow to happen.

The night nurse glances at the clock on the wall and marks the time. 12:15, early to her but late to most of the world. Having nothing better to do and not wanting to get sleepy, she decides to make a quick check of her charges. Pulling herself to her feet and stretching, she grabs a clipboard off the desk and moves out into the hall.

She's reviewing the notes as she enters room 110 and stops short as she glances up and sees the young man sitting by the bed. His dark head is bowed, his shoulders slumped as he sits in the chair and she's shocked by the misery in his body language. He's unfamiliar – not one of those that visit room 110 daily – but she instinctively realizes that he means no harm and turns to leave. A feeling nagging at the back of her mind keeps her from just walking away. Eyes lingering on the black sling around his shoulder and arm, she opens her mouth to say something when the visitor speaks. The pain in his voice sends her away, leaves her feeling like an intruder; the nagging half-thoughts are forgotten.

"Boss..." his voice cracks hoarsely with emotion. He clears his throat and tries to smile, a broken half-approximation flitting across his face. He sighs heavily, collapsing into himself. "Boss, it wasn't supposed to happen like that. It was supposed to be a simple op, huh? Go in, get our guy, get out, right? But when does anything ever go right for us?" He falls silent and when he speaks next, his voice is so laced with pain, it's almost difficult to hear the words. "Abby doesn't understand why I haven't come here sooner. She doesn't understand that it's my fault, no matter what her science says. I should've been faster, should've ducked or fired sooner. If I had, I wouldn't have been shot and you wouldn't have chased the guy. We knew he was crazy, Boss. I guess we just didn't expect him to have a gun _and_ a bomb." He breaks off as the memories overtake him, then he starts to speak in a hollow, haunted tone.

The words seem to come unconsciously, as if he doesn't know he's speaking. "He was crazy and jumpy and I should've seen it coming, but I didn't. I didn't expect him to take one look at me and pull the trigger. I didn't know he hadn't seen me; I'd've been silent if I had." He lapses back into silence for a moment, but only briefly. "God, when that room exploded...I thought for sure we'd finally lost you and it would've been my fault, because he shot me and you chased him and we didn't expect him to be a suicide-bomber as well as a madman. I wasn't really even hurt, just scratched," he mutters, pulling on the strap of his sling. He's wearing a turtleneck and no bandage is visible, but the presence of the sling suggests it had been more than a scratch. "Talk about me having nine lives," he starts again, "you're the one who's been blown up twice and shot who knows how many times."

Words don't come for a while after that. The young man just sits there, holding a cup of coffee in his good hand. He smiles wryly to himself at a memory and glances back up at the patient. "Too bad I can't slap you and order you to get better. It seemed to work pretty well for me."

He slumps in his chair, resting his arms on his knees, clutching his coffee cup. "Boss...it's been two weeks. You gotta wake up, okay? I...the team needs you. Just...come back?" A hint of desperation colors his tone, his voice almost cracking. He looks down at his coffee cup and sighs, a stilted, stuttering sound.

Silence returns and stays for a while. The young man settles himself in his chair, heedless of the time or the general discomfort of the furniture. He doesn't sleep, just sits there watching the patient and sipping his coffee. His green eyes are thoughtful and sad, dulled by emotion and lack of sleep.

The night nurse passes the room later on and something catches her eye. Curious, she glances back into the room and smiles to herself. The young man has finally given in and given up and has his head down on the patient's bed, pillowed on his good arm. She walks in and takes the cup slanting at an angle in his lax hand, placing it on the table. She takes in the dark circles under the younger man's eyes, stark against his pale face. He looks so young and vulnerable, she finds herself wanting to run her fingers through his hair and console him. She doesn't, though; something about him prevents that sort of familiarity. She does a quick survey of the room, notes any changes in the patient for her chart and leaves. She figures the young man needs this time, even in sleep. And, maybe he can help them figure out what's missing.

They can only hope.


	7. Til He Wakes

Title: A Matter of Faith and Time

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Spoilers: see chapter one

Summary: Does he inspire the loyalty? Or do they?

* * *

_**...'Til He Wakes.**_

The day began no earlier for most of the nurses. They trade shifts the same time as always, a simple change in command that sets the pace for the day. Notes on the patient rosters are quietly discussed before the tired nurses give way to their fresh, new replacements. They make sure nothing remarkable has happened overnight, update each other on little improvements or declines. All in all, a typical day.

He walks in amidst the bustle, slightly later than the day before, but still just as calm and complacent. He heads for room 110, passing the nurse completing her rounds, instead of watching her finish them. They exchange their typical greeting and he appears pleased at the normalcy, despite his unusual tardiness. She watches him out of the corner of her eye as she arranges paperwork at the desk, curious at the slight change but not worried by it.

He makes as if to enter the room but stops short in the doorway, surprise filtering across his face. Then a small smile settles around his lips as he takes in the sight presented: a young, dark-haired man with his head resting on the hospital bed, completely oblivious to the world, completely lost in sleep. His practiced, knowledgeable eyes take in the changes in his young friend as he moves to stand nearer the bed. The young man's presence is a surprise, but a welcome one; more than one of those that visited daily had wondered, worried, and railed at his continued absence.

After a moment of simply surveying the younger man, he raises his attention to the patient. He's scanning for changes, for any sign of _any_thing, when he hears it. A quiet moan. Looking quickly at the dark-haired man half-sitting in the chair, he sees all the signs of a nightmare forming: paler features under a thin sheen of sweat, wrinkled brow, and agitation where there had been peaceful slumber. Knowing what's causing the nightmares and needing to help his young friend, he glances at the patient's face as he steps around the bed, intending to gently rouse him and offer comfort. He doesn't make it, as he receives the most welcome shock of his life.

Clear blue eyes meet his for the first time in weeks, freezing him in his tracks. Frantically, he searches the familiar gaze, afraid of a replay of a previous accident. A slight smile quirks the patient's lips as he meets his friend's gaze; no doubt about it, nothing is missing within that gaze or smile. The older man sags in relief, but abruptly snaps back to attention as the sleeping young man twitches again in his sleep.

A nurse passing at that moment sees what happens next and, despite it being her job to inform the doctor that the patient was awake, didn't move from the doorway. His breathing tube had been removed already and he didn't appear to be in pain, so she figured getting the doctor could wait. Besides, the emotions in the room were far too private to expose to the clinical studies preferred by the medical profession. Transfixed, she could only watch, suddenly aware that whatever had been missing had finally been found.

The patient's gaze finally leaves the bespectacled one of his friend and settles on the unconscious young man. A lean, brown hand extracts itself from beneath the covers and comes to rest on the young man's head at the same moment the patient speaks.

"DiNozzo." The name is quiet and hoarse, gravelly with disuse, but its effect is electrifying. The young man jumps suddenly, wild-eyed and bewildered. His confusion is evident as he lifts his head and glances around the room, his eyes landing first on the older man in the corner before coming to rest on the patient. It takes a moment for his sleep-fogged mind to connect the dots, but then recognition comes.

"Boss!" he cries, a ragged kind of joyful relief choking his voice. He gapes at the patient, flailing about for words that refuse to come. The nurse has seen this before, the overwhelming relief that only the return of a loved one to consciousness can bring. Tears fill her eyes at the almost palpable emotions.

The patient watches the young man for a moment before speaking again and his response nearly floors the nurse. "Something wrong with your bed?" he asks gruffly. There's a split second of hesitation before both men break out in smiles. As the awkward moment passes, the older gentleman steps forward and speaks.

"Jethro, it's good to have you back," he says, his voice shaking only slightly with barely withheld emotion, as he steps forward to clap a hand on the patient's shoulder. The nurse smiles and turns to get a doctor, warmed by the scene in the room.

Examinations and tests are performed on the patient, assessment meant to gauge his health. Several hours pass as they are run and neither visitor makes any move to leave. As the activity in the rooms reaches a lull, the dark-haired man suddenly jumps and digs around in his pocket, swiftly producing a cell phone.

"Abby's gonna kill me," he moans as he awkwardly dials a number using his good hand. The one-sided conversation that ensues involves a lot of cringing and pleading, as the young man tries to convince his friend that he wasn't trying to pull one over on her. He closes the phone looking sheepishly at his companions. "I'm almost afraid of what she's gonna do to me."

The statement draws a chuckle out of the patient, but the levity quickly fades as blue eyes linger on the younger man's sling. Numerous questions reflect in that steely gaze and the young man shifts uncomfortably before diverting his eyes to the floor. "You get hurt, DiNozzo?" The tone of the question suggests the patient knows this, but requires more information.

"Um..." The younger man falters, the tips of his ears glowing slightly with his discomfort.

"Through and through to the left shoulder, Jethro," the older man speaks up, providing the information requested. "Lt. Rogers shot him before detonating his explosive belt, landing you here." Kind eyes twinkle as he shakes his head. "You certainly have a propensity for getting yourself blown up."

"It was my fault," the young man mumbles and all eyes lock on his bowed head. "I didn't know Rogers hadn't seen me and I startled him." Pain-filled green eyes raise to meet the patient's. "You almost died because I couldn't cover my six and got shot."

"But I didn't, Tony." The patient's tone is intense and almost impossibly gentle. "We're both alive and that's what matters. It's all good." Something passes between the two men and the tension seems to drain out of the younger man as a grin curves his lips.

Any other serious conversation is ended by the appearance of more visitors. They flood into the room, a cacophony of sound and emotion. The black-haired young woman runs over to the bedside and latches on to the patient's hand, the wide smile on her face contrasting with the shimmer of tears in her eyes. A young man follows her, delight written across his countenance as he meets the patient's eyes. The older gentleman and injured young man are joined by an exotic beauty as the girl beside the bed begins a lively and round-about retelling of the past weeks. Happiness is thick in the air of room 110, echoing in the laughter and smiles liberally shared.

The nurses in the hallway go about their normal duties, though the day is much more than ordinary. The awakening of a patient is always cause for great celebration, but this particular patient's return sparks a gaiety rarely seen in such surroundings. The nurses share in the excitement of room 110, as happy as any within the room. Together they had all watched and waited and were glad to be repaid with such a blessing, though they barely knew any involved.

With their hope renewed, they work to save the others in their care, watching and working and waiting along with the loved ones, content to understand that sometimes, it's just a matter of faith and time.

* * *

A/N: So, that's it! ^^ I will admit I got the idea after watching _Hiatus_, but this wasn't based off it, so... Actually, the idea was Tony visiting Gibbs in a nursing home, but I think I like this better. It was more fun to play with a tortured Tony that might appear on the show, than to play with a sad Tony far in the future. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
